


These Are the Nights That Never Die

by jojothecr



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, past relationship, written in 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 17:42:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6385981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jojothecr/pseuds/jojothecr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Genevieve posted a <a href="https://twitter.com/realGpad/status/713775403089797121">photo</a> of Jared playing a guitar. Jensen saw it, too...</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Are the Nights That Never Die

The tweet goes out, gathering likes and re-tweets, hundreds of them within a minute. There are reactions from their friends, family, foreign faces and unknown names.

Gen smiles at him from behind her phone, satisfied and proud, happy. Hopefully. 

She doesn’t stay for long, too busy cooking, preparing for their Easter family gathering. Jared would like to help, but he’s been told, several times, that he’s only getting in her way, and way too distracting. 

He tries to pick up where he left off, concentrating better now that he’s alone.  
What Gen forgot to add in her tweet, or what she didn’t want the fans to know, is how long he’s been struggling with this song. Jensen’s song. She doesn’t know that, though. She doesn’t know a lot of things. But she suspects a few. 

Jensen plays this song without stumbling, without a prompter. His fingers run over the strings with lightness and elegance that Jared doesn’t possess, following an invisible path, a familiar route. 

Jared remembers endless nights in Jensen’s living room, up there in Van or down in L.A., a bottle of fine wine and this song on repeat, trying and failing, and failing again. Stolen kisses over two slender necks of guitars, quiet desperation in every touch they shared.

His phone rings in the middle of a thought; mild vibration in the pocket of his jeans, muted sound of a well-known song, cutting through his memories. He slides his thumb towards _accept_ , puts the phone to his ear.

“You know, I…” Jensen lets out a breath, the hot smoke in there audible even through the distance. 

Jensen doesn’t smoke. Not usually. Only sometimes when he’s alone. Or nervous. Or upset. Which one is it now? 

“I have a photo like that, too. Only, it’s _my_ guitar. And my bed… And you’re wearing significantly less clothes.” 

Jared chuckles softly, runs his fingertips over the polished wood of his guitar. A gift. From Jensen. There's a shiver running down his back and heat coiling in his stomach. There's something inside him that wants to scream, possibly cry. “I hope you don’t feel like sharing that, too.”

Jensen’s voice is a swig of rich whiskey; smooth and warm, addictive. A poison. “No.” He takes another drag from his cigarette, lets it out on a long breath. “It’s mine only. I--” He goes quiet, then trails off completely. 

“You?" Jared prompts, but the silence lingers. "Jen, what?”

“Nothing, it… It’s nothing. I-I should go; I don’t know why I called. I’m sorry.”

“Jen.” Jared swallows thickly, hesitating; something painful and heavy scratching his throat. “I miss that, too.”

“Yeah.” Just barely there. 

Jared looks up, making sure that no one’s there, that no one’s close enough to hear. “I miss _you_.”

Jensen’s sigh is like a little earthquake; a tragedy. Relief. “Me too.” An edge of a smile - acted, not real - tickles Jared’s ear. “Bye, Jare.”

“Bye.”

Jared tries again, his fingers stumbling across the strings, tripping over reminiscence and longing that never really fades, never weakens. He puts the guitar aside and takes a sip from his glass, lets the bourbon wash away his guilt. Lets it wash it all away. 

Just a song, a stupid photo on the web; a razor cutting through a vein.

**Author's Note:**

> Title by Avicii
> 
> Wow, finally something that I actually managed to finish. Yeah, I know it's pathetically short.


End file.
